PR 6025 
fll2 T5 
1913 
Copy 1 



13, SIMON STREET 



13, SIMON STREET 



A PLAY IN ONE ACT 



By 



ANTHONY P. WHARTON /1/-<i^^^ 



Copyright, 191 3, by Samuel French, Ltd 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 
28-30 WEST 38TH STREET 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, LTD 

26 Southampton Street 
STRAND 



hi3 



CLD 33707 



13, SIMON STREET 



Produced at the Vaudeville Theatre, London, on 
Thursday, May i, 1913, with the following cast : — 



William Lassen . . 
John Rutt , . 
Cecil Henry Carter 
Miss Raeburn. . . 



Mr. George Desmond. 
Mr. Douglas Munro. 
Mr. Ronald Squires. 
Miss Hilda Trevelyan, 



The fee for each and every representation of this play by 
Amateurs is one guinea, payable in advance to the sole agents 
of the Amateur rights of representation : — 

Messrs. Samuel French, Ltd., 

26, Southampton Street, 

Strand, London. 

or their authorized representatives. - 

No performance may be given unless a written permission has 
first been obtained. 



13, SIMON STREET 

The scene represents a hack room on the second floor 
of a tenement house in Simon Street, Whitechapel ; 
a dingy, squalid apartment, without carpet, furnished 
in the most meagre and primitive way — a deal 
table, a disreputable bedstead, a wash-hand stand with 
a dilapidated jug and basin, a chair, a stool,a packing- 
case {which docs duty as larder and as 'seat), a small 
cracked mirror suspended from a nail : some odd 
culinary utensils. About the room are seedy frag- 
ments of masculine attire : before the fire hangs a 
pair of trousers, bedraggled and steaming ; towards 
the front of the room are a formidable pair of boots, 
caked with dry mud. 

At the back is a small ii)indoiv. 

At the left is a door leading to the staircase. At the 
right is a door leading to a smaller adjoining room. 

The room is illuminated by firelight and the light of 
two candles, inserted in the necks of beer-bottles. 
There is darkness outside. 

The time is about five o'clock on the afternoon of a day 
in the February of the present year. 

At Uie table William Lassen is dining. He is a smal I 
monkey-like man of about forty, unshaven, unclean 
and generally unprepossessing. His clothes are 
grimy and greasy ; his neck is encircled by a dirty 
handkerchief. The muddy boots are evidently his 
property : his feet are for the moment encased in thick, 
7 



8 13, SIMON STREET 

coarse stockings. At his elbow is a mutilated loaf : 
in one of his hands is a large chunk of bread ; in 
the other a clasp-knife. As he consumes each mouth- 
ful he spreads another ^ portion of the chunk with 
cheese. He eats noisily and voraciously, but with 
distracted eyes : sometimes he glances at a news- 
paper which has fallen to the ground at his feet, 
sometimes at trhe steaming trousers, sometimes at 
the muddy boots. As he looks at the boots an idea 
strikes him. His jaws pause in their labour, he 
places the unfinished chink and the knife on the 
table, rises and goes over to the door leading to the 
smaller room, and is about to knock at it : he checks 
himself, however, and, crossing to the door leading to 
the staircase, satisfies himself that it is locked [from 
the inside)'. He then returns towards the other door, 
turns aside to pick up the fallen newspaper, which 
he first drops into the packijig-case, then secretes, 
on manifest second thoughts, in his pocket ; finally 
knocks at tJie door leading to the other room, at first 
gently, then as he receives no response, a second time, 
more loudly. 

Carter (from the adjoining room, sleepily). Yes ? 
What is it ? Half a moment ! 

After a moment the door opens and Carter appears ; 
a good-looking, tall, slight, still somewhat boyish 
young man of about thirty, gently-bred, and with 
considerable charm, of manner and,, appearance, 
despite the obvious fact that his linen is several days 
old.) 

Carter. Yes ? 

Lassen. Ow. 'Ope I ain't disturbed you. Was 
you writin' ? 

Carter [ivhose manner, despite an attempt to 
appear at ease, is suggestive of considerable anxiety ; 
he is a little muddled, a little indistinct of speech — 
just sufficiently so to reveal the fact that he has been 



13, SIMON STREET 9 

drinking rather more than is good for him). ' Yes. I 
was— ah— writing. Can. I do anything for you ? 

Lassen {who has been scrutinizing him closely), 
Ow. I thought you was asleep. I 'ad to knock a 
second time. (He pauses. As Carter makes no 
reply.) It's hke this. I just thought as 'ow you 
might hke your boots cleaned. I was just goin' to do 
me own, so I says to meself, p'raps 'e'd hke 'is done too. 

Carter (hesitatingly). Oh, thanks— well— I 
— reaUy, I scarcely hke to impose upon your good- 
nature. 

Lassen (before Carter has finished). Qw, it's no 
trouble. Wown't take me a minute. 'Ave you got 
any shppers to put on while I'm doin' the boots ? 

Carter. Well, no, I haven't. 

Lassen. Never mind. Just you shp 'em off. 
I shan't be 'arf a mo'. 

Carter. Well— thank you very much. It's very 
good of you. 

Lassen (with a derisive grin, at Carter's hack). 
Not at all. (As Carter seats himself and begins to 
unlace his smart but somewhat besmirched footgear.) 
S'pose you ain't never wore a pair o' boots as dirty 
as that afore, did you ? 

Carter (smiling slightly). Except at footer. 

Lassen (interested). Ow ! you plays football, 
does you ? 

Carter (evasive). Yes. 

Lassen. Where ? 

Carter (evasive). Where ? Oh, several places. 

Lassen. Ow. An' you write books, you say. 
(A pause.) Books about the East End and the lower 
clawsses, you write ? 

Carter (evasive). That's it. (In a business-like 
tone.) I say ! How do the posts go in this neigh- 
bourhood ? 

Lassen (attentive). Powsts ? (After a pause 
stolidly.) Cawn't say. Same's other plaices, I 
s'pose. W'y ? 



10 13, SIMON STREET 

Carter (endeavouring not to betray over-anxiety) . 
Well — I expect a letter — and it may possibly come 
by this afternoon's post — if that hasn't gone already. 
You don't know, you say ? 

Lassen. Now. I never writes letters an' I never 
gets 'em. (.4 pause.) Now I com.es to think of it, I 
don't believe as 'ow I ever 'ave see a powstman in 
Simon Street. (.4 pause.) Now. Don't believe 
as 'ow I 'ave. 

Carter (forcedly play fid). No such things as bills 
around here ? 

Lassen. Bills ? Now. There ain't no credit in 
Simon Street (.4 pause.) W'y ? I thought as 'ow 
you told me as 'ow you'd come 'ere to get away from 
— from things o' that kind ? 

Carter (rather sharply). Things of what kind ? 
^ Lassen. Letters — an' things like that. Thought 
you v/anted to be quite to yourself — so's you could do 
your book-writin'. 

Carter (standing up). Oh, yes, yes — but you see, 
I expect this one letter — and — well — I want you to 
look out for it for me. It will be addressed to J. 
Wynne — (spelling.) W^-Y-N-N-E — V/ynne. Do you 
think you'll remember that ? 

Lassen. Ow yes. Fll remember that all right. 
Address of J. Wynne. I'll remember. 

Carter. Perhaps you'd. be good enough to make 
some inquiries about the "posts, would you ? By 
the way — this is a tenement house, you told me. I'd 
forgotten that. To whom would a postman deliver 
letters addressed to this house ? 

Lassen (stolidly). Down't know, I'm sure. I 
never was a powstman. 

Carter (visibly struck by the man's manner : after a 
dubious glance at his inscrutable face). Well — 
(hesitating.) — look here ! (He takes a half-sovereign 
from, his pocket and holds it out to Lassen.) If a letter 
is delivered at this house addressed to J. V/ynne — 
you see that it's brought to me. 



13, SIMON STREET 11 

Lassen (making no motion to accept the coin, looking 
at Carter attentively, faintly insolently). W'y cawn't 
you gow an' see abaht it yourself ? 

Carter. I'm offering you half-a-sovereign to do 
the job for me. 

Lassen Ow. Are you ? Well, wot I says is this. 
If that letter's worth 'arf a quid to you — an' you're — 
say you're too busy writin' books abaht the lower 
clawsses to look after it yourself — well 

Carter (impatiently). ¥/ell — what then ? 

Lassen. \Vell, w'y, then it's worth a 'ole quid, I 
say. 

Carter. Oh, I see ! (He substitutes a sovereign 
for the half-sovereign.) There. See about it. 

Lassen (grinning as he pockets the coin). I'll see 
abaht it. 

Carter (going towards the door leading to the other 
room). Thank you. 

Lassen (distorting his face in a grimace of derisive 
contempt behind Carter's back). Down't mention it. 

Carter (turning towards Lassen again, putting his 
hand into his trousers pocket). Oh ! there's another 
thing I want you to do for me. Do you think you 
could buy me some collars ? 

Lassen. Collars ? 

Carter (handing him some more money). Yes. 
Half a dozen. This kind. (Indicating his own.) 
Sixteen by two-and-a-quarter. 

(There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs.. 
Carter starts and instinctively retreats towards 
the smaller room.) 

Carter. Who's that ? 

Lassen (who has noted his nervousness attentively). 
Wot you so scared abaht (Sloidy turning his head 
towards the door, shouting.) 'Oo's that ? 

RuTT (outside). Me. Jack. 

Lassen. Ow. Arf a mo'. (To Carter.) It's 



12 13, SIMON STREET 

ownly a friend o' mine. You needn't be afraid. 

Carter (nervously snappish). Afraid 

Lassen. That's wot I said — afraid. (A pause. 
Significantly, as Carter gazes at him iincertainly). 
'E's my friend. You can trust 'im same's you can 
trust me. O' course, if you'd rather not 'ave any one 

know as 'ow you're 'ere (He pauses, then, 

rising, approaches Carter niih a menacing leer on his 
face.) 

Carter (hastily). Well, yes — I'd rather they 
didn't. Don't forget about the letter — and the 
collars 

Lassen (grinning). Now. 

RuTT (outside). W'y the 'ell down't you open the 
door ? 

Lassen (shouting). All right. 

{He nods to Carter, zi'ho disappears h.urriedly into 
the adjoining room, locking the door beJiind him. 
Lassen i&atches his exit with an unpleasant grin, 
then crosses the room, unlocks the other door and 
admits John Rutt. Rutt is a power fully -built 
and sinister-looking rivfflan of about thirty, dressed 
like a navvy, decorated with a recently- acquired 
black eye, and for the moment plainly in evil humour.) 

Rutt. Wot the bloomin' 'eU's up ? W'y couldn't 
you owpen the bloomin' door wen you 'eard me 
knockin' ? 

Lassen. Ow, shut your row. W'y didn't you 
come long agow, that's wot I want to know. 'Ere 
I've been waitin' for the lawst three hours for you. 
'Oo give you that eye ? 

Rutt (surlily, but plainly somewhat afraid of the 
skialler but stronger spirit). Never you mind. Wot 
d'you want ? 

Lassen. Not you, if you cawn't keep a civil tongue 
in your 'ed. D'y' 'ear ? 

Rutt (sullenly). I 'ear. 



13, SIMON STREET 13 

Lassen. Well, then — 'eed. {He leaves the door, 
which he had closed, but, in his irritation, has forgotten 
to lock, and comes towards the table, followed slowly 
by RuTT. Turning to look at Rutt menacingly once 
more.) If you down't — one o' these fine days I'll 
lose my temper an' get talkin' abaht you — and 
p'raps sayin' too much, see ? You mind wot I'm 
tellin' you. (Angrily seating himself at the table, 
and indicating the stool to Rutt, who has been about 
to seat himself on the packing case.) 'Ere. Sit there, 
I down't want o 'ave to shout at you. First of all, 
did you gow to the 'Orse an 'Ounds ? 

Rutt {surlily). Yes. 

Lassen. Well ? 

Rutt. I awsked 'em same's you said in your mes- 
sage, if you'd been in there lawst night. They said 
you 'ad. I said, 'Oo with ? They said, by yourself. 
I awsked wot time did you go away. They didn't 
know. Said they didn't nowtice you gowin' out. 

Lassen. 'Oo'd y' awsk ? 

Rutt. The boss an' the potboy an' the gal — all of 
em. 

Lassen [pleased). That's all right. {He glances 
towards the door of the adjoining roc m, rises, approaches 
it softly, listens for a moment, then returns to the table.) 
Yes. I was in the 'Orse an 'Ounds lawst night. 
Were were you ? Collectin' black eyes, I suppowse. 
{Lowering his tone). Now, look 'ere. There was a 
chap there lawst night as every one must 'ave now- 
ticed. A toff. Any of 'em say anything abaht 'im ? 

Rutt. Yes, I 'card abaht 'im from the gal. Young 
chap in light clothes with a small handbag— spoke 
to nowone ownly the gal. 

Lassen. That's 'im. 

Rutt [staring). W'y. Wot abaht 'im ? Did 
you ? 

Lassen [with a ferocious grin). Not yet. Now. 
But I 'appened to be waitin' outside the 'Orse an^ 
'Otmds w'en 'e came out, an' I passed 'im the time o' 



14 13, SIIION STREET 

night — an' — well — we 'ad a mowst interestin' con- 
versation. See ? 'E towld me as 'ow 'e was writin' 
a book abaht the East End, an' wanted to find a 
room in some nice, quiet, respectable 'ouse abaht 'ere, 
w^ere 'e could stay an' write it — with a nice view o' the 
lower clawsses out o' the window\ See ? 

RuTT. Gow on. (interesied.) . , 

Lassen. Well, of course. I knew the very room 
'e wanted — quiet, respectable, chawming view. {He 
jerks his head toiz^ards tJ:e door of the adjoining room.) 
There it^^as, waitin' for 'im. An' there 'e is, at this 
moment — writin' books as 'appy an as quiet as can 
be. I clown 't think. 

RuTT (after a pause, during zchich tJiey stare at one 
another fi::edly). Any stuff on 'im ? 

Lassen. That's just it, ole bloke. I know as 'ow 
'e's got some on 'im. (A pause). If 'e's the man I 
takes 'im for, 'e's got owver twelve 'undred on 'im — 
stiff. 

KvTT (staggered). Twelve — twelve. (In a ic his per 
that is almost a squeal) — ycnderd ? On 'im ? 

Lassen (taking the Tiewspaper from hris pocket). 
'Ere. Look at this. (He holds the paper 171 his hand 
for some moments, without unfolding it.) You see, I 
got thinkin' abaht 'im.. I nowticed as 'ow the chap 
was nervous an' excited like — lookin' abaht 'im — 
very particular abaht the other people in the 'ouse — 
wot kind were they — did they come into my room 
— an' all that. So, lawst night, after 'e'd gone in 
there (nodding towards the other room) I got thinkin' 
abaht the thing, an' I made up my mind that it 
might be worth while 'avin' a look at the pipers for 
th lawst few da3/s. Sec ? 

RuTT. Well ? 

Lassen. V/ell — I did. Soon's as I could get any- 
one to go an' bu}/ 'em for me. This is wot I finds. 
'Ere, 'ave a look at this. (Opening the newspaper.) 
See that photograph ? 

RuTT. Yes. 



13, SIMON STREET • 15 

Lassen. This is wot is wrote undernoath. 
{Reading.) " Cecil 'Enery Carter, Messrs. E. and G. 
Wright's crshier, 'oo 'as b:en missing since Friday 
la\^st. A fAim of over twelve 'underd pounds, repre- 
sentin' the week's wages of the firm's employes is 
unaccounted for." (A pause.) An' the reason w'y 
it's unaccounted for is 'cause it's in a 'andbag in the 
two-pair back o' Thirteen Simon Street, Vv'liite- 
chapel, along o' Mister 'Enery Cecil Carter. (Sig- 
nificantly.) Wot now one, as I believes, knows ex- 
cept 'im {laitJ: a jerl: towards the other room) — an' mc — 
an' you^an' p'raps one other person. 

RuTT (wlio has eyed him attentively, now nodding 
from the plictogyaph to tJie door). It's like 'im ? 

Lassen. It is 'im. 

RuTT [ajic:' a pause). Waiges, it says. That'd be 
cash ? 

Lassen. Yes, 'underd to one. 

RuTT [aftjy anotlie-^ pause) . 'Go's the other person ? 

Lassen. That's just it. I down't know abaht 'er. 
Lawst night oxter 'e came 'ere, 'e wrowte a letter as 'e 
give me to powst. Miss Raeburn was the naimx on it. 

RuTT. Miss v/ot ? 

Lassen. Miss Raeburn. I didn't nowtice the 
rest, because I 'adn't got tiiinkin' abaht things then. 

RuTT. You powsted it, then, did you ? 

Lassen. Yes, hke a juggins. You see, 'e kidded 
me right at first with his yarn abaht 'im writin' books. 
Writin' books! 'E's been fuddhn' 'isself with 
w'iskey all clay, that's the book 'e's v/ritin'. I see 
'im buyin' it in the 'Orse an 'Ottrds lawst night, an' 
stickin' it in thj 'an'bag.. 

RuTT. Tryin' to keep up 'is coura.ge, is 'e ? (Grin- 
ning.) 

Lassen. Yes. That's the sort 'e is. No use. 
Soft. 'E Vs^own't be much trouble. (A pause. 
Lowering his voice again.) 'E's expectin' a letter 
this arternoon — under the naime o' Wynne. Sow 'e 
tould mx just novv^ 



16 13, SIMON STREET • 

RuTT. That'll be an awnser to the one wot you 
powsted for 'im lawst night, eh ? 

Lassen. Til take the hberty o' openin' it, any'ow, 
to see. We've got to be certain abaht that letter, 
Jack. 'Ooever is to write it knows as (with a nod 
towards the other room) 'e's 'ere. You see ? 

RuTT. That's right. Trust you for a 'ed, Bill. 

Lassen (grinning). I down't think. Lve got 'is 
boots. More 'ed. 

RuTT. Took 'em — or awsked for 'em ? 

Lassen (with a wink). Suggested as 'ow I might 
clean 'em for 'im. 'E 'as nothing else for 'is poor feet, 
neither. (Putting down the hoots, which he had taken 
up for a moment as he spoke ; again significantly.) 
Now, first thing we've got to get 'old o' this letter wot 
'e's expectin'. We cawn't do anythin' until we've got 
that — not safely. If it's from this Miss Raeburn, 

w'y 

(There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs. 

Both men turn their heads.) 

Lassen. P'raps that's the postman. Gow an' un- 
lock the door. 

(There is another knock.) 

Lassen (shouting). All right. Down't be in such 
a 'urry. 

(As RuTT rises, the door opens and before either of the 
astonished men can move, Miss Raeburn has entered 
the room.. She advances a few steps, then stops,- a 
charming apparition, arrayed in handsome furs, 
young, healthy, and serene of manner, hut unmis- 
takahly resolute and strong-willed ; without the 
least affectation of dignity, formidahly dignified ; 
the gracious woman that retaineth honour.) 

Lassen. Wot the 

(Both men rise ahruptly. Lassen advances a few 
steps towards Miss Raeburn.) 



13, SIMON STREET 17 

Miss Raeburn (glancing about her, then, with a 
winning smile at the two men). Please forgive me for 
disturbing you — but perhaps you may be able to 
assist me. I am looking for a gentleman who is 
staying here, in this house. A Mr. ¥/ynn€. Do you 
happen to know which is his room ? 

Lassen. Wot naime did you say, miss ? 

Miss Raeburn. Mr. Wynne. 

Lassen (meditatively). Mister Wynne ? Now. 

Miss Raeburn (turning to Rutt). Perhaps you 
may know 

Rutt. Now. 

Lassen. Down't believe as 'ow I ever 'eard the 
naime o' Wynne afore. 

Miss Raeburn. Mr. Wynne is young and tdll 
^nd fair. That may help. Rather good-looking. 

Lassen. Young and good-lookin'. Now. There's 
tiow one young an' good-lookin' in this 'ouse. 

Miss Raeburn (who has been watching his face 
closely, as if suspecting reticence. Calmly, almost 
thoughtfully). Except you — and — this othe^ gentle- 
man. 

Lassen . (grmwmg). Yes, that's it. 

Miss Raeburn. Who lives in the rooms above 
these ? 

Lassen. Now one. Two families wot did live 
there wos took to the 'orsepital lawst week Diph- 
theria they 'ad. There's now one Hvin' there now. 
'Cept microwbes. 

Miss Raeburn (whose eyes have fastened themselves 
on Carter's boots, absently). Indeed ? (Advancing 
towards the boots.) How funny ! Those are just the 
kind of boots the gentleman I am looking for always 
wears. 

(She glances quickly from Lassen's stockinged feet to 
Rutt's hobnails, then to Carter's boots again, then 
to Lassen's mud-caked pair which stand near the 
packing-case ; finally to Lassen's inscrutable face.) 

B 



18 13. SIMON STREET 

Miss Raeburn. How funny i 

(Lassen glances across at Rutt, u^ko has at once rken 
again and intercepted Miss Raeburn 's retreat to the 
stairs. Lassen diverts him with a gesture, and he 
returns slowly to the table.) 

Miss Raeburn (^fter a pause). You're quite sure 
you can't tell me where I shall find Mr. Wynne ? 

Lassen (obviously making up his mind, approaching 
her) . Might I taike the liberty o' inquirin' your naime, 
Miss ? 

Miss Raeburn. I am Miss Raeburn. 
Lassen [exchanging a look with Rutt). Ow. Miss 
Raeburn. (A pause.) An' this Mr. Wynne is a great 
friend o' yours, I dessay ? 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. Lm quite sure he would 
be glad to see me. 

Lassen. 'Course 'e would ; yes. Well, now, 'ere. 
I cawn't say as 'ow I mightn't be able to find 'im, or I 
cawn't say as 'ow I might. But, seein' as 'ow you're 
sow anxious-like — Lll try wot I can do. 'Ow's 
that ? 

Miss Raeburn. I shall be very grateful to you 
indeed. 

Lassen. Ow, don't- talk abaht it. Look 'ere, 
miss — you just wite 'arf a mo' aht there on that 
landin' — w'ile I 'ave a word with my mite 'ere, will 
you ? 

Miss Raeburn. Of course. Certainly. {She goes 
towards the door.) 

Lassen (accompanying her). Just 'arf a mo'. 
You may leave the door owpen. (To Rutt.) Put 
them boots against it, Jack, will you ? 

Ri|TT. Which ? These ? (Picking up Lassen's 
hoots, he uses them to prop, the door leading to the stairs 
open.) 

Lassen. That's it. (To Miss Raeburn, con- 
fidentially.) If you 'ears any one comin' up them 
stairs, miss — you just nip in 'ere — see — quick. 



13, SIMON STREET 1^ 

(Still more confidentially.) We downt wantto'ave 
'quisitive fowlk awskin' wot brings a laidy like yqii 
to a 'owse like this, does we ? 

Miss Raeburn. I don't see that it matters — 
However, I shall do as you ask. 

{She goes out on to the landing, where she is invisible 
to the audience, hut visible to any one in the further 
portion of the room. Lassen comes forward' so 
that he is invisible to any one standing on the landing^ 
and intimates by a gesture that Rutt is to follow him, 
RuTT, after a dubious glance at the landing, does. so, 

Rutt {in an angry undertone). Wot's the gp-ime ? 
Wot d'you let 'er aht o' the room for ? 

Lassen. You shut your ugly faice. Lm lookin' 
arter this. 

Rutt (angrily). Ow, are you! An' Lm to do 
wot you orders, am I ? I down't think. Now, 
look 'ere — straight — this is 'arves or it's nothink,, 
d'y' 'ear ? Mo more bloomin' monkey tricks. ' Arves 
it is — or I go aht. 

Lassen (angrily). Well, gow aht, you bleedin' 
idiot. 

Rutt. All right. But if I goes aht; I knows w'ere 
the stright tip '11 find Inspector Yates. See ? I mean 
it. You 'ad me for a mug lawst time. Not now more, 
though — not now more, Bill. 

Lassen. Ow, for Gawd's sake, quit ! You maike 
me tired. Wot do you think as I'd 'ave to tal}c to 
Inspector Yates abaht, eh ? Wot fabaht the Jew- 
man ? Wot abaht Bessie PoUitt's fancy man ? 
Wot abaht the chap as wos fahnd under the Canal 
bridge on New Year's Eve ? Ow, chuck it ! 

Rutt. I down't care. I've told you. (Fiercely.) 
I'll swing for you, you httle twister — that '11 be the end 
of it. Yes or no ? W'ich is it to be ? 

Lassen [angrily, but giving way, plainly impressed 
by the ferocity of the other). Shut it, will you ! (He 



20 13, SIMON STREET 

strolls hack and, after a casual glance out to the landing 
corned hack.) Yes. 'Course it's 'arves. 

RuTT. All right, then- — but remember ! (Going 
-close to him.) An' wot's more, you must do your own 
share of it, Bill — Now shirkin' an' leavin' it to me, to 
threaten me with it arterwards. See ? 

Lassen. Ow, never you fear. I'll do my share. 
Now, 'ere (with a nod towards the landing) is she 
'is missus ? Wot do you think ? 

RuTT. Either 'is missus, or gowin' to be, I'd say. 
W'y? 

Lassen. That's wot I thinks too. If sow, she's 
pretty saife not to 'ave got gabbin' abaht w'ere she 
wos gowin' to this arternoon, you see. But we've 
got to be certain. She might 'ave some one waitin' 
for 'er somew'ere abaht. We've got to 'ave a look 
rahnd, see ? We'll get 'er back into the room, 'ave a 
look rahnd, an' if it's all saife — w'y, the sooner it's 
done 

RuTT (looking towards ike smaller room). Wot's 'e 
like ? Big ? 

Lassen. Ow, big enough. No 'eart. Weshawn't 
'ave any trouble with 'im, I tells you. 

RuTT (looking towards the landing). She'll fight. 

Lassen. I'll look arter 'er. It's got to be quick, 
see. Soon's she comes back into the room, you get 
to the door. Quiet, you know. Now fuss till we 
makes certain. Then I'll interdooce Mr. W3mne — 
and we'll leave 'em to bill and coo for a few minutes 
w'ile we taike a stroll rahnd. You gow up towards 
the canal. I'll gow dahn Heller' s Street and The 
Lane. 

RuTT (dubious). 'Ardly saife, is it ? 

Lassen. Wot ? Leavin' 'em 'ere ? W'y not ? 
The door will be locked. They may scream their 
'earts aht afore any one '11 'eed 'em in this 'ouse. Ail' 
I'll 'ave 'is boots. 'Sides, 'e doesn't want to gow aht. 
'E's quite 'appy w'ere 'e is. 

'RvTi -{unconvinced). I down't think it's saife. Bill. 

Lassen. Yes, it is. 



13, SIMON STREET 21 

RuTT. Wot abaht the winders ? 

Lassen. Well, 'cept 'e wants 'is neck browke — 

or 'as a aeroplane in 'is 'an' bag Ow, it's saife 

a^ i'ouses. We're waistin' time. You'll want to 
look abaht careful, mind. Any one as caime with 
'er 'd wite in a shop or under a archway or some plaice 
hke that. Down't be too long— but look careful. 
I'll wite on the stairs if I'm back first. You clear 
aht o' the room soon's I gives you the tip. Get 
owver near the door now. ' 

RuTT. It's not saife leavin' 'em, Bill. That's 
\yot I says. 

{■Unwillingly he moves a little towards the door. Lassen 
picks up Ca'rter's boots and places them, with his 
own, also near the door. He then goes towards the 
door.) 
Lassen (loudly). All right, miss. Come in. 

(Miss Raeburn re-enters the room, looking steadily 
at Lassen's face fron^ the moment of her entrance.) 

Lassen (casually). Just shut that door, Jack. 

(RuTT shuts and locks the door, then looks inquiringly 
, at Lassen, who nods slightly. Rutt places himself 
against the door and, producing a pipe, proceeds to 
fill it by the aid of a clasp-knife and a lump of plug.) 

• Lassen (to Miss Raeburn). We got to be careful, 
you see, miss. Now, it's hke this. You says you re 
Miss Raeburn, does you ? 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. 

Lassen. You down't 'appen to be Mrs. Wynne, 
does you ? . 

Miss Raeburn (smiling, but keeping her eyes always. ) 

on his face). No. 

Lassen. Ow. (Wheeling on her suddenly.) Not 
Mrs. 'Enery Cecil Carter, by any chance, is you ? 

Miss Raeburn (controlling herself) . No. (Smiling.) 



2'S 13, SIMON STREET 

Not Mrs. anything, I am ashamed to say. Just plain 
Miss Raeburn. 

Lassen {who has watched her keenly, after a pause). 
Ow. {To RuTT, significantly.) I say, Jack, down't 
smoke that pipe 'ere w'ere the laidy is. 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, I don't mind in the least, I 
assure you. 

Lassen. Ow, a little fresh air '11 do 'im no 'arm. 

Miss Raeburn {^with candour). Well, no — L 
don't suppose it will. 

(Lassen nods to Rutt, and crosses to the door. Run 
goes out. Lassen relocks the door, slips the key 
into his pocket and approaches Miss Raeburn 
slowly.) 

Lassen. If you wants to know w'ere your friend 
Mr. Carter is — 'e's in there. In that room. {Indi- 
catirig the adjoining room with a jerk of his head, watch- 
ing her face closely.) 

Miss Raeburn. Mr. Carter ? {Smiling.) But 
I'm not looking for Mr. Carter. Lm looking for a 
Mr. Wynne. 

(Lassen stares at her for a moment in silence, with a 
grin not devoid of admiration, then turns abruptly, 
and crossing to the door of the adjoining room, knocks. 
This time also lie is obliged to repeat the knock before 
receiving a response. The door opens and Carter 
appears in the aperture. He is now a Utile more 
fuddled, a little thicker of speech.) 

Carter {irritably). Well ? What is it ? Has 
that letter come ? 

(He does not at first perceive Miss Raeburn, who is in 
the further portion of the room, near the window.) 

Lassen. Now. But there's a Miss Raeburn 'ere 
wot wants to see you. 

Carter {incredulously). Here ? {Coming forward 



13, SIMON STREET 23 

into the room and perceiving his visitor.) Good 
heavens ! 

Miss Raeburn (coolly, coming towards him, holding 
out her hand with a smile). How do you do, Mr. 
Wynne. Are you very shocked to see me here? 
I feel quite improper. 

Carter {taking her hand mechanically , visibly 
embarrassed, hut striving to emulate her matter-of-fact 
tone). Shocked ! Charmed, I assure you. 

Miss Raeburn. Really ? I wonder May I 

go in there ? (Indicating the adjoining room.) Or 
perhaps I might have a word with you here 

Carter. Yes. Of course. Just a moment; 
(Crossing to Lassen, who has been an attentive spectator 
of their' meeting.) Have you been able to get those 
things for me yet ? 

Lassen. The collar^ ? Now . I was just gowin' 
for 'em w'eh this laidy came in. Til gow an' fetch 
'em now, shall I ? 

Carter. Oh, thank you. Sixteen by two and a 
quarter. 

Lassen [unlocking the doov, and quietly inserting 
the key on the other side). Sixteen by two and a 
quarter. 

Carter (to Miss Raeburn). Won't you sit down ? 
(As he gets her a chair he perceives that Lassen has 
picked up the two pairs of boots and is carrying them 
out of the room. Going towards him hastily.) Yoii 
might leave those boots of mine. 

Lassen (halfway through the door). Shan't be a 
moment. 

Carter. But I tell you I want them. , ,.^_ ., ,, 

Lassen. Shan't be a moment. , , , / 

(He disappears, Carter, with a ruefvil expression on 
his face, turns away from the door ' 'and tcfrhes back 
towards Miss Raeburn.) ''/ ''■ 

Carter. You must forgive the deficienc-i{ea of my 
toilette. Ah — he's taken my boots. 



24 13, SIMON STREET 

Miss Raeburn. So I see. (There is a pause.) 
Don't fidget about — Sit down — I don't mind. 
I wear stockings myself, you know. You got my 
letter ? 

Carter. No. Did you write to me, then, as well ? 
(Seating himself.) 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. This morning. When I 
got your letter, I sat down on the spot and wrote to 
you to tell you that I never wanted to see your face 
again. As soon as I had posted it I got sorry — and in 
the end— well, in the end — I am here. Don't read 
that letter when it comes. Tear it up. 

Carter. Very well. (A pause.) 

Miss Raeburn (who has deen observing him as he 
sits dejectedly, staring at the floor). You've been 
drinking. Haven't you ? 

Carter. No. 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes, you have. (Another 
pause, during which she continues to regard him sorrow- 
fully.) You wretched, wretched boy ! (She rises 
and goes closer to him.) What on earth — what on 
earth has happened to you ? 

Carter (turning away from her impatiently). Oh, 
don't preach to me. If that's all you've come here 
for- 

Miss Raeburn. I haven't the least intention of 
preaching, I assure you. I came here because you 
said you wanted to see me before you left the country 
— Though I can no more understand why you should 
want to see me, than I can understand why you 
.should have got yourself into this awful trouble. 

Carter. Oh — well — I've done it — I've done for 
*niysdf. 

Miss Raeburn. Poor thing ! It's quite sorry 
for itself, I do l^elieve. 

Carter (biUerly). It's all your fault. You know 
that. You know that as well as I do. 

Miss Raebubn. Oh, don't be absurd. 

Carter. It is. If you'd given me a chance two 



13, SIMON STREET 25 

years ago — if you hadn't thrown me over — just be- 
cause of that woman — I shouldn't be here now. 

Miss Raeburn. Well, Cecil, all I can say is this. 
I don't want to seem hard or cruel— but there isn't a 
night that I don't thank God on my knees that I did 
throw you over. I suffered then— I can laugh now, 
and you would laugh— at the agony of grief I worked 
myself up to— because I really did love you then- 
better than I shall ever love any one in this world 
again— I know that. But— that's all done with— 
I know the real you, you see, now. And so, I say, I 
thank God every night that I had the sense, the 
courage— to refuse to marry you. That's my view. 

Carter (endeavouring to be pathetic). You mean 
that, Helen ? 

Miss Raeburn. Yes— in spite of the pathetic 
expression in your eyes, I mean that. You never 
loved me— really— even then. If you had, you would 
never have entangled yourself with that unspeakable 
woman. I'm not a saint or a prude. Heaven knows. 
I have three brothers— and I know what boys are. 
But— you were engaged to me. I was to have been 
in a few weeks— your wife. And yet— you went 

to her 

Carter [with a shrug). It was your own tault. 

If you hadn't insisted on posing as an iceberg ^ 

Miss Raeburn [sharply). Now, please! What's 
the use of going back to it ? And even if there were 
the least excuse for Carrie, or MiUie, or whatever her 
name was, nothing under heaven can account for this 
last mad folly. You know that. Were you m 
debt ? 

Carter [wearily). Oh, yes. Up to the neck. 
Miss Raeburn. Vv^hat ? Horses ? [She pauses. 
He makes no reply.) Or more Carries and Milhes ? 

(He makes no reply. Changing her tone.) Well 

(She makes a little gesture of finality.) Have you 
been here all the time ? 

Carter. No. I've been chivying all over Londoji 



26 13, SIMON STREET 

— Poplar, Greenwich, f Putney, Highgate — all over 
the place. I only came here last night. 

Miss Raeburn. Do you know anything about 
these men ? 

Carter (quickly). Men ? 

Miss Raeburn. There was a second man in the 
room when I came. 

Carter. ._ Oh. Oh, yes. I remember now. My 
host — the gentleman who was here just now — had a 
visitor. No, I know nothing whatever about either 
of them. Except that they're probably both bad 
characters — like myself. 

Miss Raeburn. Why did you tell that man — 
the one who was here — why did you tell him that 
your name was Carter ? 

Carter {in consternation). But — I didn't tell him. 

Miss Raeburn {u'ith raised eyebrows). He knows. 

(.4 pause.) 

Carter. Are you sure ? 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. Quite. He asked me if 
I were Mrs. Cecil Henry Carter — and^ven when I 
refused to admit the soft impeachment— he still in- 
sisted that it was Mr. Carter for whom I was really 
looking — not Mr. Wynne. 

Carter. Good Lord ! How — how the devil did 
he find that out ? [He is visibly intensely dismayed. 
He bites his finger nails nervously.) 

Miss Raeburn. Are you certain that you didn't 
— Were you drunk last night when you met him ? 

Carter. No. No— — 

[There is a pause.) 

Miss Raeburn. Cecil. 

Carter [who has begun to walk uneasily , about the 
room). ' Yes,?. 

Miss Raeburn. Where is — where is that money ? 
Carter [after a pause). I fi- there. In my bag. 



13, SIMON STREET 27 

Miss Raeburn. How much is it — over twelve 
hundred pounds, isn't it ? 

Carter. Yes. 

Miss Raeburn. And you have it all here — with 
you — in there in that room ? 

Carter. Yes. 

(.4 pause.) 

Miss Raeburn (bravely). Are you sure that that 
man does not know that ? (She asks the question 
with slow deliberation.) 

(Carter, whose anxiety is growing visibly, stares at 
her dubiously.) 

Carter. I don't see how he could. He couldn't. 
(As if for encouragement.) What ? 

Miss Raeburn. I'm not sure. I — I— I can't help 
thinking that he does. Is it. Is it — gold or notes ? 

Carter. Notes. 

Miss Raebvrn. (after a pause). You know there's 
a reward ? 

Carter (anxiously). Is there ? No — I didn't 
know that. 

Miss Raeburn. There is. The police told Mr. 
Edward Wright that — that the}/ thought it quite- 
possible — ;with that large sum of money on you — that 
— well, that something very serious might happen to 
you. So he decided to offer a reward— a large one, 
I beheve. 

Carter. My God — then. My God — :that fel- 
low may be gone to give information to the police 
now. I — (After another vicious attack on his 
finger nails.) I must get out of this — Hell ! 
(As the idea strikes him.) That's why he took my 
boots. No matter. (He disappears hastily into 
the adjoining room.) 

Miss Raeburn (rising). Where are you going ? 

Carter (from inside). Out of this. 

(She waits outside until he reappears. He does so in 



28 13, SIMON STREET 

a moment or so, hat in hand, and carrying a small 

bag.) 

Miss Raeburn (who is unable to control an impulse 
to laughter at his somewhat grotesque appearance). 
Please forgive me. I know I shouldn't laugh. But 
you look so funny. 

Carter {irritably). Oh, funny. 

[He moves quickly towards the door. She puts her- 
self as quickly in his path.) 

Miss Raeburn. No — no — Cecil — (as he pushes 
her off, suspiciously and angrily) — no, you mustn't go. 
I have something to say to you. Wait — just wait 
a moment. 

Carter (impatiently). M^at is it ? j 

Miss Raeburn. Don't do anything foolish. 
Don't lose your head. Just think. You know you 
can't go out into the street hke that without attract- 
ing everybody's attention — even in this neighbour- 
hood. If you had shabby clothes. Besides 
(seeing that her words have produced an impression 
and speaking now more slowly and deliberately) what's 
the use of running from one hiding-place to another } 
You know it's only a question of time — days. The 

pohce will find you in the end — and then (She 

shrugs her shoulders. Earnestly.) Look ! Pu' ting 
it on that lowest ground — I beg of you, I entreat of 
you — give me that money — let me 

Carter. Give it to you ? 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. Give it to me. Let me 
return it to Mr. Wright. 

Carter (impatiently, turning towards the door, 
hut none the less plainly indecisive). Oh, nonsense, 
my dear child. '• ) 

Miss Raeburn (again intercepting him). No, 49 

listen. I saw Mr. Wright to-day, myself. I went to 

his office. He — if the money is returned to him be^ 

fore to-morrow, he has promised me that the firm 

will take no further action. 



13, SIMON STREET 29 

Carter {after a pause). On your honour — have 
you given me away to \\Tight ? Have you told him 
that I'm here ? 

Miss Raeburn. On my honour, no. 

(.4 pause.) 

Mr. Wright even said that if you gave up the 
"money and were wiUing to make a fresh start some- 
where — out of England — he would help you. I 
know father would help you, too. 

(Carter has now returned to the table and is fidgeting 
idly with the newspaper left upon it by Lassen, his 
eyes downcast, his indecision increasing.) 

Miss Raeburn {approaching the table). Cecil, old 
boy, do this. Be an honourable, honest man again. 
You're not too old to face the world again. Face it 
with your head up. 

Carter. Oh, it's all jolly well to talk like that. 

(^5 he speaks, mechanically, he turns over a page of the 

newspaper. As his eyes fall upon the photograph 

of himself, and the letterpress beneath it, his face 

'■ assumes an expression of (bsolute consternation 

and dismay.) 

Oh ! {A pause.) Oh, damn it ! 

Miss Raeburn. What ? 

Carter {viciously). Damn it. Here's the explan- 
ation. These fellows have seen this. 

Miss Raeburn. A photograph ? 

Carter. Yes. 

Miss Raeburn. What is it ? The Daily Illus- 
trated ? {As she speaks, she approaches the iable and 
stands beside him looking at the newspaper. Quietly.) 
I thought so. They know all about you. 

Carter. I'll swear. {He goes hastily towards 
the door leading to the staircase.) 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, you may be sure they've 
locked that door. 



30 13, SIMON STREET 

(Carter reaches the door, tries it and discovers tlmt 
her surmise is correct. He shakes the door furiously, 
then goes hastily to the window, looks out, then turns 
away from it with a gestiire of desperation. An idea 
occurring to him, he goes to the table and begins to 
search through the Jiewspaper hastily.) 

Carter. There's nothing about a reward in this. 

Miss Raeburn. No. Not in that. (Quickly.) 
That newspaper is several days old, isn't it ? 

Carter. Eh ? Yes. Monday. 

Miss Raeburn. And this is Friday. It's four 
days old. Yes. And they were looking at it, 
too, when I came into the room — I think. At least, 
they were both sitting there at that table — and that 
newspaper was lying on it between them. That 
settles it. They know all about you. 

(Carter begins to walk restlessly about the room. 
Miss Raeburn, w'hose face has assumed an expres- 
sion of the utmost gravity, almost of apprehension, 
seats herself, watching him abstractedly.) 

Carter (after some moments, abruptly). Do you 
think Wright really meant what he said to you ? 

Miss Raeburn. I shall tell you exactly what he 
did say. " We close at one on Saturdays, Miss 
Raeburn. But if that money is returned either to 
me or to my brother' here before six o'clock to-morrow 
evening, we won't prosecute." Those were his very 
words. 

Carter. Well — (He pauses. Then, after a moment, 
making up his mind.) Well, look here, Helen — 
I'll give it to you. 

Miss .Raeburn. That's a dear fellow. 

(Carter unlocks the bag, and taking from it a bundle 
of notes, hands them to her silently.) 

Miss Raeburn (taking them from him, laying her 
other hand on his sleeve and looking up at his face). 
Is it all here ? 



13, SIMON STREET 31 

Carter. All excepc four pounds. I had to spend 
some of it. I had no other money. 

«Miss Raeburn. Give me whatever you have left 
of the four pounds. 

Carter. But— what shall I do. I 

Miss Raeburn. I have some silver — I will lend 
that to you. To-mor-row you must go and see father 
and Mr. Wright. 

(He empties kis pockets of sundry coins, which he hands 
to her. She takes out her own purse and hands it 
to hi7n.) 

Miss Raeburn. That will do until to-morrow, I 
hope. 

Carter (after a moment) . I can't thank you. 
Miss Raeburn (abstractedly). What ? Oh— 
thank me ! 

{As she rolls the coins which he has given her in the 
notes, she perceives at the top of the bundle a ticket.) 

Miss Raeburn. There is a ticket with these. 

Carter. A ticket ? Oh, yes. That is the ticket 
for a bag I left at Charing Cross— at the Left Luggage 
Office. "You might give me that (approaching her.. 
As she hands him the ticket.) Thanks. (As he 
puts it away.) You will see Wright to-morrow ? 

Miss Raeburn. I trust so. 
{Something in her tone attracts Carter's attention 

and his eyes follow her as she rises, and crossing to 

the window, peers out into the darkness, craning 

her neck to examine the walls of the house on either 

side of the window.) 
{Coming away from the window, she approaches the 

door.) 

Miss Raeburn. You couldn't do anything with 
this door, could you? (Shaking it.) No. What 
does the window of that room look on to ? 

Carter. The same yard as that one. Why ? 



32 13, SIMON STREET • 

Miss Raeburn (hesitating a moment before she 
-puis her thoughts into words). You know. I 
don't believe for a moment that those men have 
gone to the pohce — or would ever think of going to 
the pohce — even if they knew there were a reward. 

Carter Well, it doesn't matter, does it, now ? 
Even if they arrest me — if Wright refuses to prosecute 
— I shall be released. 

Miss Raeburn. My dear boy, doesn't it occur to 
you at all that the behaviour of these men may mean 
something very much more serious than even your 
arrest. 

Carter [vaguely alarmed by her air). Oh, no — I 
shouldn't think so. Oh no. 

Miss Raeburn. You haven't seen the second man. 
If you had — He's got the most brutal, evil] face 
I've e^er seen on any human being. I'm not a 
coward, Cecil — but, I tell you — honestly — (with a 
gesture) I'm frightened. These men know or 
believe that you have twelve hundred pounds here — 
with you — at their mercy. 

Carter (staring at her ; in an undertone). But 
they'd never leave us to ourselves like this if they 
meant mischief. 

Miss Raeburn (shrugging her shoulders). I shrewd- 
ly suspect that they've gone now to try to discover 
whether I came alone or with some one else. Before 
they admitted to me that you were here, the yasked 
me to leave the room — like a fool I did — and then 
they talked together for quite a long time — and 
the second one — the big one — went away almost 
immediately. I'm sure they arranged something 
then. I know they did. 

(A pause.) 

Carter (nervously incoherent). Do you mean to 

say (He coughs to recover control of his voice.) 

Do you mean that you think they'd actually 

Miss Raeburn (interrupting him). I think that if 



13, SIMON STREET 3a 

they find us both in this room when they come back 
— neither of us will leave it alive, I may be quite 
wrong — we shall know in a very few minutes, I 
expect. But — that's what I think. 

[She seats herself again. Carter, after a moment, 
goes again to the window, and in his turn examines 
the in) alls of the house on either side.) 

Carter (coming away from the window). It's a 
sheer drop of thirty feet to the yard. 

Miss Raeburn. There's a pipe of some kind at the 
side — just near the window. 

Carter. Yes. But that would never bear my 
weight. 

Miss Raeburn. Try it. 

Carter. Oh, it wouldn't. I know it wouldn't 

(He walks about the room, his fright increasing momen 
tarily. Miss Raeburn hardly heeding him, sits 
trying to evolve some way out of the predicament.) 

Carter (after a moment) . Damn it all, Helen, you've 
scared me, with your own fright. I'm in a blue funk. 
Miss Raeburn (doggedly). Try the pipe. 

(Carter goes to the windoiv, and after some cautious 
investigation, climbs towards the right, supporting 
himself against the angle of the wall. He is just 
visible in the outer darkness. After some moments, 
he climbs back again.) 

Miss Raeburn (grimly). Well ? 

Carter (very dubiously). It might hold for a few 
seconds. It would probably give before I got quar- 
ter way down, though. 

Miss Raeburn (rising: with decision). Well — 
If you won't go, I must, that's all. One of us has got 
to risk it, that's plain. There is no other way. 

Carter. Oh,' it's out of the question your going. 
(A pause.) I haven't the faintest notion how I should 

c 



34 13, SIMON STREET 

find my way to the street even if I did get down 
safely. And God knows what these beggars would 

do to 3^ou — probably 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, don't bother about me. I 
can look after myself until you can get assistance. 
Don't think. Don't talk. Do it. If I hadn't 
these dash skirts. I'd do it hke a shot. 

(A pause.) 

Carter. All right, then. I'll chance it. 

Miss Raeburn. Don't go hunting for a policeman. 
Any, one — any man will do. Don't w^aste time. I 
may be able to hold them off for ten minutes or so — 
but after that they're certain to discover that 
you've got away — and then 

Carter. I shall do my best. If possible, I should 
prefer to keep clear of the police until you've seen 
Wright. 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. It's safer. (Glancing at 
her watch.) I may see Mr. Wright this evening. 
(Holding out her hand to him). I i&ill see Mr. Wright 
this evening. (Turning away from him.) Whistle 
twice if you get down safely. 

Carter. All right. (He turns away, and seeing 
his hat and bag on the table, hesitates beside them.) 

Miss Raeburn. No. Better leave your hat and 
your bag — and — that ticket. The Parcels' Office 
ticket for your other bag. Give me that — I may 
want that. 

(He hands her the ticket, then nods to her, and going to 
the window climbs out on the sill, leans over to the 
right, moves one foot out to the pipe, then abruptly 
disappears. After some moments, Miss Raeburn 
rises and goes to the window. As she reaches it, the 
sound of footsteps ascending the stairs attracts her 
attention : she glances toivards the door, then hastily 
takes Carter's bag from the table and moves quickly 
to the door leading into the adjoining room.) 



13, SKvION STREZT 35 

Miss Raeburn [loudly, as if speaking to Carter 
in the other room). No, not yet. I hear some one on 
the stairs, now. Perhaps that is he. 

{ReacJiii'ig the door of the other roojn, :^he ope^is it, 
throws irdo the room Carter's bag, then stands 
holdirig the door slightly ajar and apparently speaking' 
.to Carter ; the door leading from the stairs opens, 
and Lassen — noiv hooted — enters tJie room.) 

Miss Raeburn (as Lassen enters). What ? A 
glass ? {Si:e glznces towards the cracked mirror hang- 
ing on the wall. Yes, there is one here. I'll ask. 
(To Lassen.) May I borrow your looking-glass for a 
few minutes ? 

Lassen (wJio Jias locked the door leading to the stairs) . 
Borrow it ? Wot for ? 

Miss Raeburn. Mr. Carter wants to shave. . 

(As s/ie speaks, she detaches the glass from the wall. 
A faint wJiistle is heard through the ivindow, and is 
repeated after a moment.) 

Lassen (after a reflective pa::se). Cw. 'As 'c got 
a razor ? 

Miss Raeburn (with a steady look at Jiim). Yes, 
thank you. You don't mind his having this ? 

Lassen. Mind ? Now, 

Miss Raeburn. Thank you very much. 

(She goes to the door of the adjoining room. As she 
passes through it.) 

Miss Raeburn. Here you are. 

(She disappears for a m-onient, reappearing almost in- 
stantly. As sJie comes out, shutting the door behind 
her — over her sh.oulder.) 

Don't be long, p^.ea^e. 



36 13, SIMON STREET 

{As she says these words, her eyes turn to Lassen. 
She goes towards him slowly.) 

Lassen. Wot does 'e want to shave 'isself for ? 
Funny time o' day to shave 'isself. 

Miss Raeburn. I will tell you why. [She looks 
at him for a moment. Very quietly.) I know I may 
trust you, may I not ? 

Lassen (puzzled). Trust me ? Course. Course 
you may trust me. 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. There's something about 
your face, something that assures one that you would 
never do anything treacherous or unfair. One 
feels — one knows somehow that one can depend upon 
you — absolutely. 

Lassen (still more puzzled, after a stare at her). 
Are you — are you kiddin' ? 

Miss Raeburn (who -has apparently never heard 
the word and is incapable of the action). Kidding ? 
Kidding ? What is that ? 

Lassen. Are you tryin' to pull my leg ? 

Miss Raeburn. I am in earnest — if that is what 
you mean. I don't trust your friend though. 

Lassen. Jack ? Ow, Jack's all right. 

Miss Raeburn. No — I do trust you ; but — 
he — well — he's different, isn't he ? 

Lassen. Ow — well — we're not exactly the same 
clawss, that's right. . 

Miss Raeburn (meditatively). No — he's a brute. 
You — you're one of Nature's gentlemen, I think. 

Lassen (not entirely unconvinced of the justice of 
this criticism). Well — p'raps. 

Miss Raeburn. Look. (With an appearance 
of intimate and confidential reliance). What I am 
going to say to you — you must promise me that you 
will not repeat it — to any one — either your friend 
Jack or any one. Will you promise me that ? 

Lassen (with a grin). Lor lumme, yes. I'll promise 
you anything — when you arsks it hke that. 



13, SIMON STREET 37 

Miss Raeburn. On your word ? 

Lassen. On my word. Gow a'ead an' let's 
'ear wot it is. 

Miss Raeburn. It's this. (She is now standing 
near the candles — she examines her watch abstractedly — 
then glances at his face for a moment before proceeding. 
Hesitatingly.) I hope you won't be shocked — but — 
mind — you've promised me solemnly that this will 
not go be3^ond yourself. 

Lassen. I've promised. An' you needn't be 
afraid o' shockin' me. I've a 'ardened constitootion. 
Gow a'ead. 

Miss Raeburn. V/ell. Mr. Carter [break- 
ing off abruptly again.) By the way, how did you 
discover Mr. Carter's real name ? 

Lassen. 'Ow ? See 'is picture in the paiper with 
'is naime underneath it. That's 'ow. 

Miss Raeburn. This paper ? [Indicating the 
newspaper lying on the table.) 

Lassen. Yus. 

Miss Raeburn. Oh — then — then you know that — 
that he is in trouble ? You know what has 
happened ? 

Lassen [seating himself and lookir.g up at her). 
'Spowse I does ? Wot then ? 

Miss Raeburn [turning away from him) . We guessed 
you knew. [Turning to him. appealingly.) You won't 
betray him ? You won't give him up. I know that 
that is the right — the strictly just thing to do — the 
thing that a man like you — a man with high principles 
and a rigid sense'of honour — would almost certainly 
feel it is his duty to do. But — {laying her hand on 
his sleeve.) — you won't, will you ? 

Lassen. 'E's a thief. That's wot 'e is — a com- 
mon thief. 

Miss Raeburn [availing herself of the fact that he 
has averted his eyes for a moment, to look again at her 
watch.) I know. But — if I tell you that you will 
really be helping Mr. Carter to restore the money 



38 13, SIMON STREET • 

which he (She breaks off dhrupUy.) I can't 

think. Do you know, even now, I can't beheve 
that he did it. That he could have been so incredibly 
mad as to take that money. I can't believe it. 

(A p{zt:se.) 

Lassen. Well — gow a'ead. I ain't 'card anythin' 
wot I didn't know afore, so far. 

Miss Raeburn. What was I saying ? Oh, yes. 
If I tell you that you will really be helping to restore 
that money to its proper owners — won't you— won't 
your conscience allow you to do what I ask of you — 
to spare him the punishment — punishment which, I 
know, perhaps, he deserves ; but still — because I 
know that he m.ust have been mad to do it — he 
never meant to do it — I mean, he would never, never 
have done such a thing if he had been in his right 
senses. I know him, you see. I knovv^ him so 
well — and I know 

Lassen {impatiently). Yes, yes — all right — 
but— wot 'ave you got to tell me ? That's wot 
I'm waitin' to 'car. Is 'e (with a jerk of his head 
towards the door of the other room.) thinkin' of givin' 
up the stuff 'e collared, then ? 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. He will. He has con- 
sented to do that. That is why I came to him — 
here — to ask him to give back the money to Mr. 
Wright. He's willing to do that — and after all, 
that — that is some sort of an atonement, isn't it ? 

Lassen. Some sort of a wot ? 

Miss Raeburn. An atonement — a making up for 
what he has done. And that is how we want you to 
help us. Because in helping M". Carter, you will 
be helping me — and I know you'd like to help me, 
wouldn't you ? 

Lassen (gazing at her charming face). V/'y ? 
'cause you've a pretty faice, is it ? 

Miss Raeburn (demurely). Oh no. My face 
is not pretty — and besides, I know that you are not 



13, SIMON STREET 39 

the kind of weak, foolish man that would allow a 
pretty face to induce him to disregard the dictates 
of his conscience. No — no — but — however — if you 
are willing to help him — this is what I want to ask 
you to do. You see, of course, Mr. Carter natur- 
ally wouldn't care to go to Mr. V/right — himself — 
you understand — with the money— and I — well 
— I couldn't very well go to him, either — could 
I — ? I mea.n — well — frankly — I shouldn't care — 
you know ? 

Lassen. Well ? 

Miss Raebukn. Well — we want some other per- 
son — some trustworthy person to go. You — if you 
are willing to do us the great kindness — will you ? 

Lassen (after a moment). Me ? (He stares at her.) 

Miss Raeburn. I would go with you to Charing 
Cross. Not that I distrust you. Don't think 
for a moment that I distrust you ; but I shan't 
have any peace until I know that the money is safely 
in Mr. Wright's hands. ¥/e — you and I, would 
go to Charing Cross Station — get the bag at the Left 
Luggage Office — go from there straight to Mr. 
Wright's Office. Give Mr. Wright the bag ; he 
can open it. Mr. Carter has lost the key. 

Lassen (who has risen, visibly disconcerted). 
Ain't he got the stuff with 'im, then ? 

Miss Raeburn. The money ? Here ? No. 

Lassen (dismayed). Ow. 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, it would be much too risky 
carrying a lot of money like that about him. 
He has been hiding fo" nearly a week, you see — and — 
well — of course — in tenement houses and places of that 
sort — well — frankly — one comes across curious people 
in places of that kind — doesn't one ? 

Lassen (sullenly). Down't know, I'm sure. 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, yes. I assure you — quite 
curious people. (His back being turned, she again 
glances at her watch.) Of course, if — well — if you 
went to the police — the money would be returned to 



40 13, SIMON STREET 

Mr. Wright, in that case, too. But — I beg of you 
not to do that. 

Lassen (after a thonghtfid pause, giving a searching 
look at her face). 'E's got the money in 'is bag in the 
Left Luggage Ofhce at Charing Cross Station, you 
say ? 

Miss Raeburn (taking the ticket which Carter had 
given Jier from her glove, and examining it by the candle) . 
" Left Luggage Ofhce. Charing Cross Station." Mr. 
Wright leaves his oihce at six o'clock. If possible, 
we ought to ^et there before he leaves. 

(She rises, goes slowly to the door leading to the adjoining 
room, opens it, glances in, then utters an exclamation 
of amused confusion and retreats hastily.) 

Miss Raeburn (laughingly). Oh, gracious ! (Com- 
ing back towards Lassen.) I forgot that Mr. Carter 
was engaged in such a serious operation. I do hope 
I haven't make hiiti cut himself. (Serious again.) 
I'm afraid I can't wait much longer. Will you do 
what I ask you ? 

Lassen.. I'm not satisfied abaht this. Lemme 
'ave a look at that ticket. I'm not satisfied abaht 
this. (He holds out a grimy paw.) 

(Miss Raeburn hands him the ticket. He examines 
it closely, then turns to her again.) 

Lassen (slowly). I tells you wot — I'll gow to 
Charin' Crawss and get the bag an' fetch it back 'ere 
— see ? If that money's .in it — w'y — then you or 
me'll gow an' intervoo this 'ere Mr. WYight. If it 
ain't — w'y — well, then, I'll see wot I thinks I'll do 
abaht it. There — that's wot I'm wilhn' to do. 

Miss Raeburn. You mean — that — you — that 
you would wish Mr. Carter to remain here — until you 
return ? 

Lassen. Yes. That's wot I mean — 'im and 
you stay 'ere till I comes back. 



13, SIMON STREET 41 

Miss Raeburn. Oh ! but why ? 

(They both turn towards the door, as the sound of ap- 
proaching footsteps reaches them.) 

{There is a knock at the door leading from the stairs.) 

Lassen. 'Oo's that ? 

(Miss Raeburn 's expression of momentary hope 
fades as the reply reaches her cars.) 

RuTT (outside). Me, Jack. 

Lassen. Right oh! Art a mo. (In an undertone 
to Miss Raeburn, hastily.) Best keep a tight 
mouth afore Jack, you know — if you don't want 
your friend quodded. If 'e finds aht w'y Carter's 
'idin' 'ere — w'y, 'e'U gow strife to the pohce station. 
That's the kind 'e is. 'E cawn't bear sneaks. 
Jack cawn't. You keep your mouth shut. I 
'vise you. 

(He goes and unlocks the door. Rutt comes in.) 

RuTT (after a quick glance about, to Lassen) . Noth- 
ing. 

Lassen. Same 'ere. 

RuTT. Were's the bloke ? 

Lassen. In there. Shavin' 'isself. (He winks, 
with a grin.) 

(Turning away from Rutt, and approaching Miss 
Raeburn, who has listened to this coUoquy anxi- 
ously hut 'discreetly .) \ 

Miss Raeburn. Well— is that right ? I can 
trust you ? 

Lassen. Down't you know as 'ow you can ? 
Ain't yer said yourself as 'ow I'm an honourable gentle- 
man of 'igh principles ? Plain for any one to see ? 
Course you can trust me. 

Miss R.\eburn (quietly). Very well. 



42 13, SIMOX STREET 

(Lassen ncds, then goes over to Rutt, lyJio lies looked 
on distmstfully.) 

Lassen. You keep an eye 'ere for a few minutes, 
Jack. (WitJi a wink.) I'm gowin' to fetch some- 
thing for this 'ere laicly. 

Rutt. Wot ? 

Lassen. You'll see. [With a significant look.) 
Lock the door. I shawn't be long. Be careful — 
d'y 'ear ? 

Rutt. Ow, all right. 'Urr^/ up. 

(Lassen nods and goes out. Rutt locks the door, 
then comes forward to the table and seats himself 
grimly, his face averted from Miss Raeburn. There 
is silence for several moments. Miss Raeburn's 
eyes rest meditatively on Rutt's face.) 

Miss Raeburn (coming towards Rutt). Will you 
please open that door for me ? 

Rutt [turning on her with a vicious snarl). Now. 

Miss Raeburn. But I want to follow that m.an. 
I must. I don't trust him. I know that he doesn't 
really mean to come back here. Please open the 
door for me. Please. 

'Rvji: (ferociously). Now — you 

[He rises, Miss Raeburn retreats before his sinister 
advance.) 

Rutt (hideously). Down't you 'ave no fear. 
'E'll com.e back. 

Miss Raeburn. No, no, no. He won't. He's 
got the ticket. 

(Rutt's attention is at once attracted.) 

He'll go to Charing Cross and get Mr. Carter's bag — 
and — oh — do let me go. Do, I beg of you. 

Rutt (somewhat uneasily, meanifigly) . Wot bag 
are you talkin' abaht ? Wot bag, I says ? 

Miss Raeburn (who is now almost tearful). Mr. 



13, SIMON STREET 43 

Carter's bag — I asked that man to help me to return 
the money. You know — do you know ? 

RuTT [with greatly increased uneasiness and fero- 
city). Money — V/ot the 'ell — 'As 'e (jerking his 
head towards the stairs) got the money ? 

Miss Raeburn. -Not yet — but he's gone to Char- 
ing Cross — and he has the ticket for the bag — ^^and 
— oh, please don't keep me— please let me go. 

RuTT. Shut your row, will you ? {He raises 
his hand menacingly .) Charing Cross ? Charing 
Cross Station ? 

Miss Raeburn. Yes. It's in the Left Lug- 
gage Ofhce there. Oh — what shall I do ? 

RuTT (viciously). The blawsted little 

(He snatches up his hat and rushes towards the door. 
He stops for a moment to listen, as footsteps are once 
again audible ascending the stairs.) 

Miss Raeburn. Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps 
this is he. 

i(RuTT Opens the door hastily, and Carter appears 
in the aperture, one hand bound up in a handker- 
chief, but otherwise unscathed.) 

Miss Raeburn (at once hastening towards the door. 
Piteously). Oh, what shall I do — what shall I do ? 

RuTT (ferociously). Shut it, curse you. (To 
Carter.) What does you want ? 

Carter. I want 

Miss Raeburn (interrupting hastily). The gentle- 
man is a friend of mine. He has been waiting for 
me. (To Carter.) Do come in — I am in the 
most awful trouble — I don't know what on earth 

RuTT (after a quick glance from one to the other, 
pushing Carter violently to one side, and rushing 
hastily from the room). Aht o' the way, you 

(He disappears tumultuously.) 

(Carter gazes after him in stupefaction. Miss Rae- 



44 13, SIMON STREET 

burn's expression of tearful anxiety changes abruptly 
to laughter. She seats herself and laughs uncontrolled. 
Carter stares at her, quite puzzled.) 

Carter. What on earth ? 

Miss Raeburn (jumping tip). I'll tell you as we 
go along. Oh, it's too funny. But how foohsh 
of you to return alone. 

Carter. I saw the other — the small one run 
out of the house and away down the street. So I 
reckoned I might risk coming alone. How did you 
manage ? 

Miss Raeburn. Oh, it's a long story. And Tve 
had to tell some most deplorable whoppers. I 
told them that you were shaving. Though I don't 
know that that was a whopper, after all. 

(As she goes towards the door. Carter collects his 
hat and bag.) 

On the whole, I rather fancy we've both had a pretty 
close shave. Come along. 

Curtain Falls. 



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